Denial
by Mimuscardenalis
Summary: Two children are sitting on a rock, eating radishes and talking about nothing in particular. As you approach them, you recognize them. One is Luna Lovegood. The other is-


Denial  
  
You walk into the hall. Hundreds of eyes seem to watch your every step, and the stars that shine from the enchanted sky appear to disapprove of this particular member of the magical school. The candles that hang freely in the cool, still air burn their flame behind your eyelids, and you can still see them even as your eyes move to gaze at something more innocuous. The granite floors and dull, sullen tapestries seem to mock your bright- faced youth, and you find that even you, you who think so little of others feel cowed by their somberity. This is your year, your next-to-last year at Hogwarts. How you loathe these bitter walls, that crafty hat whose words are so deftly twisted by the houses.  
  
Noble Gryffindor. Loyal Hufflepuff. Intelligent Ravenclaw. Evil Slytherin.  
  
There was once one who challenged this belief, but she has fallen. She fought for what she believed to be true, and she paid the price. She was too blunt, too strange, and too different. The Slytherins respect her, for she was loyal to them and to you, and you will never hear the name of Luna Lovegood mocked by any Slytherin except yourself, and then only in your mind.  
As you sit down at the Slytherin table you hear a different set of words, uttered by a different mocking voice. "You'll hear within the next few days that we Slytherins are evil, that we're rouges, cowards, idiots, horrible, stupid, lazy- basically any insult that can be hurled will be spoken to you. Ignore them. They are beneath you." Blaise had always been too protective. She'd worry over all the inexperienced first-years, remembering her first days at Hogwarts all too well. It was worse then, though, with the hatred of Slytherins resurgent from Potter's return. The teachers had someone new to fawn over, and everyone else fell into the shadows of the bright light he cast. You tried to dishonor him to no avail, falling slightly more out of favor with the elder Slytherins each time you tried. The fact that he was not priggish, egocentric, a flaunter of his own achievements was something that puzzled you to no end, and it bothered you to the point of insanity. How could such a person still believe in stereotypes, still be prejudiced by early impressions? How could a Weasley's opinion be worth more than yours to such a person? You would never know. You remember Lovegood's first evening at Hogwarts with all too much clarity. You missed her when she boarded the train, but you saw her as she boarded a boat. Alone. No one would speak to her, for apparent fear of contracting that misfortune that seemed to fall upon such unfortunate misanthropes as the Lovegoods. You nearly walked over, but mocking her was too much trouble for you, and so you let her go. There would always be other opportunities. You watched her Sorting, a lofty second-year presiding over your friends like a puffed-up starling. You scoffed as the hat put her in Ravenclaw- it was odd that the house of the clever was also the house of the Lovegoods. You wondered more where Potter and Weasley were. They were probably on their next idiotic, self-important quest, for Weasley's brothers looked rather worried. Not that you cared.  
You remember the first time you spoke to her as well. It was raining, and it was in mid-October. You'd almost forgotten about her, but she hadn't forgotten you. She'd seen you watching her before, and now she smiled at you and beckoned you over. Like a fool, you came. "Hello. I'm Luna Lovegood." "Shocking," you replied. "I'd have never guessed." "Oh, but you look like you'd be good at guessing," she said. She appeared immune to sarcasm, and your mind began churning up cruelties with which to torment her. "Do you like radishes?" she continued. Her face was perfectly calm and complacent, and her idiocy annoyed you. "Oh, I simply adore them," you replied. "It's been years since I've had any, though. Would you get some for me?" "Certainly," she replied, and left. You remained standing there, rather surprised, and then sat down upon her rock. With all the wisdom of your twelve-year-old mind you analyzed what meager knowledge of the Lovegoods you remembered. It was never really talked about, but you'd read in the papers of a depressed father and foolhardy mother. Capella Lovegood had been a brilliant witch, but she never took time to check herself, and one day on a bright August morning she'd gotten herself blown up. Mr. Lovegood had never gotten over it. The Lovegoods had a history of mental disorders, and that coupled with his wife's death had sent him into a deep depression. He kept the Quibbler alive, but only just, and it had become little more than a publication of fantasy. It wasn't taken seriously anymore. Little was said about Luna Lovegood. Society had long since turned their faces from the Lovegoods, even though they were pureblooded, and their daughter was no exception. They were simply not interesting enough, and hearing about them made many uncomfortable. The press looked away, although there was plenty of juicy gossip that could have been had. Capella Lovegood could be killed in any number of ways, and Alexander Lovegood could have been convicted of any number of crimes. The press, however, did not want their story, however twisted it might be, so the Lovegoods faded from social memory and were kept from the public eye by a shield of ignorance.  
  
You awoke. You must have drifted off as you thought, and now you possessed little more than a crick in your neck and rain-soaked clothing. Lovegood had come back, apparently, for a small bowl of soggy radishes was carefully tucked under one of your hands. You munched on one absentmindedly as you considered what would best humiliate Lovegood. Your chance never came, however. As you ventured out onto the grounds the next morning you heard a commotion. Lovegood was talking to a small group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, several older than she. As you approached your heart sank, for the words that they spoke were certainly not what you wanted to hear. "Stupid Lovegood. You really must recognize that Slytherins are evil. You can't go on like this." "There's nothing wrong with them. Saris and I were just talking about Professor Snape's homework. It wasn't very nice of you to chase him away like that." "Lovegood, you've got to listen. Slytherins are nasty, horrible people, and you'd do best to stay away from them." The speaker was one of the youngest, and you recognized her as Virginia Weasley by her bright hair. You were torn between reluctant admiration of Weasley for talking down to Lovegood so well and Lovegood (this you hated to admit) for defending a Slytherin in front of Gryffindors. Your choice was made for you, though, for Weasley turned around. "Isn't that right, Malfoy?' You sneered at her without even thinking. You ignored the clamors in your mind that warned you to stay away, remembering only Slytherin loyalty. Lovegood was yours to torment and annoy, not the idiotic Gryffindor's or the know-it-all Ravenclaws. You would attack her or defend her as you saw fit, but you wouldn't allow anyone else the privilege. "The only way that you'd be able to recognize such things would be that you've seen them before and had them categorized for you. Did your brothers do it for you, Weasley? Are you relying on their opinions? It must be- after all, I doubt that you would have anyone else to tell you these things, and you're too stupid to come up with them on your own. If money were brains you'd be destitute- no, wait. You already are." Weasley replied with what you would soon learn was one of her favorite retorts- nothing at all. She pretended that she hadn't heard you speak, and turned to speak with her companions. Weasley was wise. She knew how to ignore people. You certainly didn't- in fact, you still don't. You found Luna later, sitting on the same rock. She smiled at you as you walked up and asked you a question. "Did you like your radishes? I'm sorry that I left you in the rain, but you seemed awfully tired. I hope you didn't mind." You owed it to her. After all, there was nothing shameful in smiling at another pureblood, even if they were only a Ravenclaw, and so you did. She smiled brilliantly in return, and you decided that it would perhaps be worthwhile to partake in her company. After all, it would only make revenge sweeter when you betrayed her in the end.  
  
Your third year passed much the same, and your fourth. It was really only at the end of fifth year that you suspected a betrayal, not from you, but from her. You had ceased to think of her as anything but a friend, strange as that was, and thoughts of eventual betrayal hadn't crossed your mind in years. She sent you radishes from her garden over the summer, and wrote you long letters full of nonsense. In return, you sent her exotic vegetables from your mother's greenhouses. You barely wrote her at all, but she never seemed to mind, and your friendship grew swimmingly, as did your jealousy of her attention. The Slytherins all respected her though, for she had never said a word against them and she was associated with you. Thus your jealousy grew unnoticed by most until the day you saw her talking with Potter. It was the ultimate sacrilege. Potter had just managed to put your father in prison and would probably manage to win the House Cup again, and yet Luna was talking to him. Finally Potter walked away, and it was all you could do to keep from cursing him. He was slowly removing everything from your life that was worthy of your attention, and somehow he managed to do it with a self-righteous smile upon his face. How dare he deprive you of what you cared about?  
  
You're still sitting in the same place that you were those six years ago, but now you do not look at Lovegood. You haven't mentioned the incident, and you still speak to her, but no longer will you lower yourself to attempt to catch her attention. She has fallen beneath you. 


End file.
